Eye of the Oracle

by Bryan Davis

  “I thought of a way you might be able to go home without fighting those snakes again.”

  “Go on. I’m listening.”

  Sapphira nodded toward Morgan’s castle at the top of the hill. “Remember the three doors I told you about in the dungeon up there? Usually one of them opens to a dimension I’ve been to before. Elam, Gabriel, and I went through a portal we found there and ended up at Patrick’s mansion.”

  “So you think I can find the exit portal?”

  “It’s easy. A skeleton marks the spot.”

  “A skeleton?” Acacia rolled her eyes. “Wonderful. Sounds like a safe place.”

  “Don’t worry. It seemed safe while we were there, and I’ll help you.” Sapphira stood and held out her hand for Acacia. “Think you can walk?”

  Acacia pulled up on Sapphira’s hand and tested her ankle. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  Sapphira helped Acacia sneak up to Morgan’s house. Sapphira had to climb into the window by herself, but since no one seemed to be home, she unlocked the door from the inside, and the two of them took their time descending the dungeon’s staircase.

  As darkness flooded their surroundings, Sapphira reignited the cross. When they arrived at the lantern gateway, she illuminated and extinguished the lanterns in the usual numbered sequence, and the gate creaked open. Acacia leaned heavily against Sapphira as they passed through. Every few seconds, she breathed a muffled groan.

  “Are you going to make it?” Sapphira asked.

  Acacia sat down in front of the trio of doors and extended her sore ankle. “I’ll rest while you open the doors.”

  When Sapphira swung open the first door, the endless field of grass appeared. Stepping over to the second, she turned the handle and opened it more slowly. Behind this one, she found the hole that led to the sixth circle. “Here’s my door,” she said.

  As she crept toward the third door, her hand trembled. This had to be the forest! It just had to be! She reached for the knob and slung the door open. Tropical trees arched over a winding dirt path that slipped under dozens of low-hanging vines. She spun around and dramatically swept her arms toward the doorway. “Acacia, I give you the path home.”

  Acacia rose slowly to her feet and hobbled toward Sapphira. “Well, it’s not the wardrobe to Narnia, but it’ll do.”

  Sapphira helped Acacia limp along the path until she got her bearings. Running ahead, she located the portal and searched through the ferns until she found an extra long bone. She plunged it into the earth next to the skeleton and hustled back to Acacia.

  “Okay,” Sapphira said, catching her breath. “When you pass the fifth tree on the right, turn ninety degrees and you’ll see a grassy mound. The portal is about fifty paces on the other side. I stuck a bone in the ground to make it easy to find. Just open the portal and you’ll fall into Patrick’s house. You can take your time, but I want to hurry back and find Shiloh.”

  Acacia embraced Sapphira, then pulled away and pressed her finger into her sister’s chest. “Don’t take any chances. If I don’t see you by tomorrow, I’m coming to find you.”

  “Fair enough,” Sapphira replied. “Did you bring your sunglasses?”

  “No. I don’t have a hat, either.”

  “I guess you’ll have to go anyway.” Sapphira combed her fingers through Acacia’s white locks. “With the styles I’ve seen in Glastonbury lately, no one’s going to say anything about your hair. If you keep your head down, maybe no one will notice your eyes. Just walk slowly.”

  Acacia grinned. “Yes, Mother.”

  Sapphira turned and headed toward Morgan’s dungeon, frequently glancing at Acacia as she limped down the path.

  The doorway back to the dungeon seemed to hang in the air, suspended a foot or so from the ground by an invisible force. Sapphira jumped into it and hurried to the middle door. Standing at the edge, she gazed down into the darkness. “Okay,” she said out loud, grasping the cross. “Don’t think about it. Just jump.” Closing her eyes, she leaped in.

  Squatting low, Acacia rubbed her finger across a jewel mounted in the skeleton’s belt. How strange that the man’s flesh would rot, while the leather in the belt showed no signs of decay.

  A deep voice pierced the silence. “There are many mysteries in the land of the dead.”

  Acacia gasped and rose to her feet, keeping her weight on her good leg. A tall, tuxedo-clad man with a pair of umbrellas tucked under his arm stood next to her. “Welcome to the first circle,” he said.

  Acacia shuffled to the rear until her heels bumped against the bones. She teetered backwards, her arms flailing, but the man grabbed her wrist and pulled her upright. She pressed her palm against her chest. “Thank you.”

  The man smiled and nodded. “You’re quite welcome.”

  She slipped her arm away from his grasp. “Who are you?”

  “I am Joseph,” he said, bowing. “I am a guide for lost souls in this place.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Joseph.” Acacia extended her hand. “But I can’t stay. I have to get back to the land of the living.”

  Joseph took her hand and gave it a gentle shake. “Indeed you do. A terrible tragedy is about to befall a very old friend of yours, and, after it happens, you must bring her to me.”

  She jerked her hand back. “Who? Sapphira?”

  “Her identity will be revealed in a very short time, but you must bring her the moment you learn of her trouble, or an even greater calamity will result.”

  “So you’ll be right here?” Acacia asked, pointing at the ground. “I should come back to this spot?”

  “Yes.” Joseph lifted an umbrella. “Dark clouds are rolling in, far darker than you can imagine, but I will be your guide as you and your friend embark on a long journey.”

  Acacia glanced at the stormy sky. “Okay, I’ll do my best, but my ankle’s pretty sore, so it might take me awhile.”

  “You will have time.” He pointed the umbrella at the skeleton. “But you must go now. The portal’s glow will indicate that it is still open, so you will not need your scroll to return. But make haste. Every portal leading to these circles will soon be closed to all but a select few, and the oracles of fire will be powerless to break through the seal that God will set on the portals. They will remain closed until the new dragon king comes.”

  As Elam clopped into the ancient chamber, his footsteps echoed from the distant walls. Ever since Patrick’s adopted cousin moved the round table, no obstructions lay hidden in the darkness, so he marched ahead until he stood directly underneath the hole in the ceiling. A moonbeam shone on his head as he called out into the shadowy chamber. “Robert. Are you in here? It’s me . . . um . . . Markus.”

  “Over here.” The voice was sad and low. “But you can call me Patrick again. Morgan has taken my precious daughter. What more can she do to me?”

  Elam stepped out of the moon’s glow. “I heard about Shiloh. Is that why you returned?”

  “Yes, Paili and I will take the orphanage back immediately. She needs the children’s company to ease her pain.”

  “Aren’t you going to fight to get Shiloh back?”

  “Fight?” A derisive laugh punctuated Patrick’s tone. “What can a man do against a sorceress? How can a living human track down a prisoner in the land of the dead? If the great Merlin could not retrieve his wife, how can I expect to ever find Shiloh?”

  “Paili told me that you promised to send someone to search for her. Who will that be?”

  “I made that promise in haste.” Patrick’s voice trembled. “I have no idea what to do. I am confused, and I cannot think straight. I am lost in a wilderness, and darkness has enclosed me. There is no hope at all. None.”

  Elam pulled a flashlight from his belt and turned it on. Aiming the beam in the direction of Patrick’s voice, he searched the wall until he found his old friend sitting on the floor next to a cross mounted on a stand. Ela
m strode up to him and set the beam just under Patrick’s eyes. “Send Sapphira and me,” Elam said. “We’ll find her.”

  Patrick squinted at the light. “How? Won’t she be hidden?”

  “I’ve been in Morgan’s prisons. I know how to get to them.”

  Patrick picked up a lantern and climbed to his feet. Striking a match, he lit the lantern’s wick. “Where are they?”

  “You have to go through portals, but I’m not sure which ones lead where anymore.” Elam turned off his flashlight. “We’ll have to experiment.”

  “I will go.” Patrick’s tears glistened, reflecting the lantern’s flaming wick. “Just show me what to do.”

  Elam shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I don’t care about danger!” Patrick clenched Elam’s shoulder. “This is my daughter we’re talking about. She’s my only child, a child of prophecy.”

  Elam laid his hand on Patrick’s and gently loosened the former dragon’s grip. “If she’s a child of prophecy, she’ll be protected. That’s why I’m more concerned about your safety than about hers.” He lowered Patrick’s hand. “Let me do it. I have a lot of experience.”

  A loud grunt sounded from behind Elam. He spun around and caught a glimpse of a female stumbling through the portal window’s drapes. As she pulled the curtain aside, an eerie glow brightened her outline. She carried a fiery torch and waved her hand at it. “Lights out!” she commanded, and the fire disappeared.

  Elam relit his flashlight and pointed it at her. The beam illuminated her white hair, and her eyes reflected the beam, bouncing it back with a blue tint. She lifted her hand, shielding her face.

  “Sapphira!” Elam redirected his flashlight and strode toward her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m not ” She winced at the glow from Patrick’s lantern as he walked up to her.

  Elam stepped in front of the lantern, casting a shadow across her face. “Why were you in there?”

  “First of all, I’m not Sapphira. I’m Acacia. Second” she pulled up her pant leg, revealing a red, oozing wound on her ankle “I’m hurt, so I’d like to sit.”

  “By all means.” Patrick helped her down to the floor. “I’ll fetch Paili and our medical bag.”

  She sat cross-legged, obviously favoring one of her ankles. “I hope he hurries. I have something important to ask him.”

  Elam stooped next to her. “Ask me. Maybe I know.”

  “A tragedy is imminent. Do you know of anyone besides Shiloh who might be in danger?”

  “No . . . No, I don’t.” Elam sat down and gazed at Acacia. In the glow of the portal, her white hair shimmered, and her eyes sparkled bluer than even Sapphira’s. “So,” Elam began, “uh . . . do you know where Sapphira is?”

  “Sapphira and I were trying to find Shiloh.” She extended her wounded leg and rolled up her pant cuff. “One of Morgan’s serpents bit me, so Sapphira had to clean out the wound and send me home.”

  “That looks nasty! You’re lucky to be alive!”

  Loud footsteps closed in, followed by rapid breathing. Patrick rushed through the doorway, his lantern swinging in one hand and a medical bag dangling from the other. “To be visited by one oracle of fire is amazing enough,” he said, “but two in the same evening is quite a surprise.”

  Acacia squinted at him. “Two?”

  “That’s why Paili is delayed.” Patrick nodded toward the hallway. “She is speaking with Sapphira in the front den. Sapphira was just leaving, so Paili will be along shortly.”

  “Sapphira? How can that be?”

  “She said she heard about Shiloh being kidnapped, so she baked some fig cakes for Paili. Apparently they were her favorite treat many years ago.”

  Acacia’s eyes flashed. “Don’t let her eat them!”

  “What? Why?”

  “That couldn’t have been Sapphira! She was with me! She didn’t bake any fig cakes!”

  Elam leaped up and grabbed Patrick’s arms. “Paili’s in the front den?”

  “Yes! Hurry!”

  Elam sprinted from the room, his legs pumping so fast, he felt like he was flying. Careening around corners, he dashed down one hall, then another. Finally reaching the front of the house, he threw open the door to the den. There was Paili! Sitting by the fireplace! He lunged across the hardwood floor and slid on his knees up to her side.

  He scanned her body. No sign of the fig cakes. Trying to slow his breathing, he gazed into her eyes. “Paili . . . I mean, Mrs. Nathanson. Are you all right?”

  Tear tracks smudged her cheeks. She drooped her chin to her chest and shook her head. “Not all right,” she said, her voice low and thin. “Shiloh gone.”

  “I know. I don’t mean that. I mean . . .” He lifted her chin. “What did you say?”

  A new tear trickled down her cheek. “Shiloh . . . gone.”

  Elam covered his face with his hands. “No! Tell me you didn’t eat the fig cakes!”

  She raised a finger. “Only one. But I sick now.” Her eyes closed and her head lolled to the side.

  Elam lowered his head to the floor and banged it against the wood as he let out a mournful wail. “Noooo!” He nuzzled her limp hand and kissed her fingers tenderly.

  “Paili!” Patrick called.

  Elam jerked his head around. Patrick stormed in and scooped Paili’s limp body into his arms. “Come, Elam!” he said as he headed toward the door. “There is still hope!”

  Blinded by tears, Elam leaped to his feet and stumbled behind Patrick.

  “I’m taking her to the ancient chamber,” Patrick said, grunting as he struggled along the corridor. “Acacia said she might be able to save her.”

  “I left my flashlight in the chamber.” Elam surged in front of Patrick. “I’ll get another lantern!” After sprinting down the hall again, he stopped at a table that held two lanterns. He snatched one up, lit it, and waited for Patrick. When he came in sight, his cheeks puffing in time with his grunts, Elam strode ahead, adjusting the wick to provide a strong, vibrant glow.

  When they arrived at the chamber, Acacia pushed up from the floor and held out her arms. “Give her to me.”

  “Are you sure you can carry her?” Patrick asked as he transferred Paili’s body to Acacia.

  Acacia groaned under Paili’s weight. “I’ll do whatever I have to do.” She limped toward the portal window. The glow bathed the two female forms, dissolving their bodies, and absorbed them into the ghostly wash.

  The portal suddenly darkened, leaving Elam’s lantern as the only light in the room. He fell to his seat and covered his face with his hands. “Why is this happening?” he cried. “Why would God allow Morgan to kill someone as innocent as Paili?”

  Patrick’s trembling grip massaged Elam’s shoulder. His voice quaked. “I . . . don’t know. . . . I just . . . don’t know.”

  Elam lowered his hands and looked up at Patrick, who was now sitting on the floor. “I feel like the whole world is coming to an end,” Elam said. “Is Morgan going to win this war?”

  Patrick’s face, now as pale as Sapphira’s, seemed old and worn out, like a ghost weary of haunting a troubled home. He firmed his chin, pain and determination stretching his words. “She . . . will . . . not . . . prevail!”

  Chapter 7

  Searching for Shiloh

  Sapphira threw an empty crate to the side. Nothing behind that one, either. Setting her hands on her hips, she surveyed the stacks of crates that lined the alley, groaning at the number. Searching every one of them would be a huge pain, and, besides, Shiloh wouldn’t have any reason to conceal herself, would she? Then again, fear of being alone in the sixth circle might drive a teenager into hiding. The eerie remnants of Shinar could give anyone an urge to cower in the shadows.

  She sauntered back to the deserted road, shuffling her tired feet. When she reached the middle of the cobblestone paving, she cupped her hands around her mo
uth and shouted, “Shiiilohhh!” She waited a few seconds. A distant echo responded, but no other sound interrupted the quiet evening.

  Sighing loudly, she hopped up to a raised, planked sidewalk and forced her legs into a trot. “Shiiilohhh!” She repeated her name over and over as her bare feet slapped the boards.

  Stopping at the center of town in the shadow of a clock tower, she gazed at a tall statue in the main square a sculpture of a man riding a horse. As she crossed the street and approached the statue, she blew a low whistle. The village had changed so much! Makaidos and the other dragons, working in another dimension, had altered every building and garden in Shinar. But, of course, they weren’t around for her to congratulate. Still, she might see some of them, as she had seen the images of Makaidos and Roxil the last time she visited.

  Sapphira followed the berm that formed the perimeter of the village’s central garden until she came upon a pitcher pump. With its spout poised over a patch of bare dirt at the edge of the street, it seemed a likely place for anyone in town to come for water.

  Cinching up her loose jeans, she sat on the berm and worked the handle. After several repetitions, a stream of water trickled out, then a gush. She thrust her hands under the flow and splashed her face, gasping in the chilling refreshment.

  After slinging the droplets from her fingers, she sat with her elbows on her knees and gazed at the deserted town. Maybe Shiloh wasn’t here after all. Or maybe she was delayed. Since Morgan wanted Shiloh to live, she couldn’t just dump her in Hades without making sure she would survive the snake bite.

  Sapphira looked up into the gray sky. “Elohim?” she whispered. “If you’re keeping an eye on things here, I could use some help. I have no idea what to do.”

  As she wiggled her feet in a little puddle, she rubbed the outside of her pocket. At one time, the Ovulum used to warm up when she was going in the right direction or sting her thigh when danger was near. Now that she needed help more than ever, the strange egg wasn’t around to give her guidance.

  Her fingers passed across a tiny lump. She stood and dug out the bead she had plucked from the fruit and laid it in her palm. Gazing up into the sky again, she half closed one eye. “What do you expect me to do? Plant it somewhere? It took a thousand years to get fruit down below.” A new trickle of water dripped from the pump’s spout and splashed over her toes. She scooped up a handful of the muddy water. If Shiloh ever came to the circle, she would eventually find the water supply and use it, wouldn’t she?